"Lu Ren, this whole trap Wang Mie and the others set was aimed at you! If you go now, you'll just be walking into the net!"
Gu Qiyuan's voice was urgent, his eyes filled with worry.
Although the Chaos Clan had told them long ago that Wang Mie and the others had most likely fled back to the Higher Realm Battlefield and might attack them,
they had never expected Wang Mie to set a trap and imprison Thirteenth Ancestor and the others inside the great formation they had laid down.
"They escaped last time only by luck. This time... they won't be so fortunate."
Lu Ren's voice was calm, yet it carried a bone-chilling coldness. "Lead the way."
"Fine!"
Gu Qiyuan gritted his teeth, turned, transformed into a streak of light, and shot toward the horizon.
Lu Ren followed close behind, his robes slicing through the air like lightning tearing apart the dusk.
Before them stretched a vast, boundless land of decay.
As far as the eye could see, the marshes were black as ink. Poisonous miasma bubbled up as the mud churned, while the air was thick with the aura of all things rotting away.
This was one of the great perilous regions of the Higher Realm Battlefield—the Ten-Thousand Rot Marsh.
The marsh could corrode the bones of the Dao and rot the Immortal Soul. Even Supreme Realm experts who fell into it would have only a sliver of hope of survival.
Yet at the center of the marsh, a solitary island rose and sank with the waves.
Twelve peaks surrounded the island, hanging upside down like sharp swords. A figure stood atop each summit, their auras chilling and grim. They were Wang Mie, Wang Zhanchao, and the others.
Beneath the peaks, a blood-red dome of light, shaped